


Drabble Central

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012), Deus Ex: Human Revolution, Inception (2010), The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, M/M, Prompt Fic, ongoing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-10 12:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 17,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of all the drabbles I've written for people to read at their leisure. Fandoms and pairings will vary, and warnings will be placed at the beginning of each story if they apply (ex. if it is mature content)</p><p>Current fandoms/pairings:</p><p>Thor/Avengers - Thor/Loki<br/>Inception - Arthur/Eames<br/>The Dark Knight Rises - Bane/Blake<br/>Deus Ex: Human Revolution - Jensen/Pritchard; Jensen/Sarif<br/>JGL/Tom Hardy<br/>Hiddlesworth<br/>Avengers - Clint Barton/Phil Coulson</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wish Not, Want Not

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**
> 
> A/N: So I've been writing some drabbles and filling a few prompts on rare occasion on tumblr and I decided that I should probably have a place to collect them all and keep them to make them available for people to read. You may want to follow me on tumblr since I usually post these drabbles on tumblr first as a treat for people who follow me, but if you don't want to follow me or don't have a tumblr, no worries! I'll eventually update this as well. At the moment all the drabbles are Thor/Loki or Arthur/Eames, but the collection may expand with time.

Prompt: tomhiddlestontheliferuiner answered: Well, definitely more angsty Thorki and Eames/Arthur! And with lots of sexual tension! (;

**Wish Not, Want Not** (Inception - Arthur/Eames)

Eames traced lines of the body he knew so well, and yet didn't know at all. He slipped his fingers through stiff black hair, the gel making curly locks straight and unwelcoming. He ran his fingers over soft skin, following the curve of frowning eyebrows, the sharp angle of a nose, and the rise of cheekbones. He felt no stubble against his skin as he followed the strong jaw, and the lips indented by his thumb were dry but soft.

How he dreamed of this face, Arthur's face. He stared so often, dreamed of it even more often, that he knew every tiny detail. Each freckle, the intricate mix of shades in eyes that would look simply _brown_ only to those who were not looking closely enough. He knew it all, _loved_ it all. It all looked so perfect to Eames, even the imperfections. The frown lines that marred Arthur's face far too frequently, the stiffness of muscles and posture. It was all a part of the man Eames loved, and he cherished it all.

Soft laughter caught his attention, startling Eames until his rickety chair rattled. Eames steadied himself and glanced up to see Ariadne rushing up to him, grinning. "Wow, Eames! You're so talented! If I hadn't been practicing mazes with Arthur then I could have sworn you were him," she praised, entirely unaware of the new tension in the room.

Eames' eyes slid to Arthur's, who stepped up to stand beside Ariadne at a calmer pace. Both of them stood beside the little vanity Eames had set up in a corner of the room. Arthur's gaze was cool, calculating, and not at all amused. Eames allowed his forgery to melt away, and he could see his own reflection in the mirror once again. "You're supposed to be practicing to forge the mark," Arthur accused calmly, though the skin around his mouth was tight. "Not your co-workers."

"The mark is simple," Eames defended. "I'm already prepared for the job. You were the one who dragged us all down into the dream for another training session. I just thought I'd do a bit of extra practice until the timer ran out."

"If you finished early you could have left," Arthur reminded Eames with a raised eyebrow. It was clear that Arthur was uncomfortable with Eames forging him, which made sense. Eames wondered how Arthur would respond if Eames forged Arthur again, mimicked him.

"Perhaps I didn't feel inclined to shooting myself in the head, darling," Eames snapped, already aware of where this was headed. He gave a sigh when he noticed a gun materializing in Arthur's hand. It was always the same.

"Allow me," Arthur said. Eames didn't know how Arthur could always sound so cold when he did this. Eames wanted to close his eyes but he refused to make it that easy on Arthur. Instead he held those brown eyes, now hard and unfriendly and in such contrast to the soft eyes Eames had had reflected back to him from the mirror.

There was a deafening crack and burning, numbing pain, and then Eames jolted awake. The warehouse was quiet, the lawn chairs as uncomfortable as ever. Eames groaned and pressed his hand against his forehead, feeling it throb. _Bastard_ , he thought as he forced himself to stand. When he looked back, Arthur and Ariadne remained asleep in their respective chairs.

Eames swallowed a lump in his throat and began packing his bag. Even though they both knew that Eames would not die from the gunshot, it tore at Eames' heart to know that Arthur was so willing to shoot him in the head. There was no hesitance, no remorse at causing Eames pain and casting him out of the dream world. Eames didn't even know why he kept coming back, accepting Arthur's job offers. Except Eames _did_ know, even though he didn't want to admit it. He was in love with the stupid bastard and couldn't bear the thought of Arthur being in danger because Eames had left him unprotected.

Eames sighed and grabbed the spare PASIV device to carry out with his bag. Arthur wasn't likely to comment, but even if he did Eames didn't care. Eames needed some comfort tonight and he knew he would not receive it from Arthur; the gunshot was enough of an indication of that. All Eames had left was a shade, a perfect replication of the man he would always love but could never have.


	2. Worthy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/

Prompt: chickadee-chick answered: Thor/Loki (or gen): What would have to happen/under what circumstances would Loki become worthy to wield Mjolnir?

**Worthy**

_Only one may possess the might of Mjolnir at a time_ , Odin's voice echoed through Loki's mind again and again, always tugging at his attention. Although Loki knew his father had told Loki to deter him from fighting for the right, the words had given Loki a much more sinister thought. Thor was the current wielder of the mighty hammer, which meant that Loki had no chance to possess it. Unless Thor was out of the picture.

They had fought and Loki had lost. But he had not surrendered. He had merely returned to the background and waited for his chance. Thor seemed to forget about the incident and grow accustomed to wielding Mjolnir, taking for granted his lack of competition. This worked well for Loki's plans and he remained close. Watching, waiting.

Thor had invited Loki to go travelling for a while, exploring new lands and fighting new foes. Loki had agreed readily, wondering if this might finally be his opportunity. Now he wished they had not been so foolish as to choose a dangerous land to explore alone. He also wished he had not wasted the majority of his attention on Thor instead of focusing on their surroundings. They had been ambushed in the middle of the night, the trees doing nothing to protect them from bandits familiar with the land.

Loki was taking out as many enemies as he could with his spear and the few throwing knives he had been able to reach, the rest packed away and now useless. He was just beginning to gain confidence in the outcome of the fight, Loki and Thor always a brilliant fighting duo despite their clashing competitiveness outside dangerous situations. But then Loki heard a shout behind him. "Loki, help!"

Loki spun on his heel. The grass was littered with bodies, grass stained red. Only one bandit remained standing after the last one Loki had cut down, and the bandit was standing over Thor who was hanging off the edge of a cliff. At the time when they had made camp it had seemed like a smart idea to sleep beside the edge of a cliff; enemies would be forced to arrive from only one direction. But now their planning was backfiring.

Without a second thought Loki threw his spear, watching it embed into the bandit's back as it tore through flesh and bone. The bandit gave a grunt and toppled forward, nearly hitting Thor as he fell over the cliff's edge. Loki called his spear back to him before it was lost and he ignored the sensation of warm blood sliding over his fingers when he held the spear in his hand again. "Brother, please!" Thor called out again.

For a split second Loki glanced away from Thor to the torn grass where Mjolnir lay. The hammer would do nothing to aid Thor now; he needed his brother. _Only one_ , a voice whispered in Loki's ear. He could let Thor fall. He could. Except... he couldn't. "Hang on!" Loki yelled, running past Mjolnir to Thor's aid without a second glance. He fell to his knees and gripped Thor's hand. His fingers slipped across skin, wet with blood, and Loki gave a terrified gasp to mirror Thor's as he nearly fell. "I said hang on!" Loki snapped, made angry with fear.

Despite Thor's strength, he did not have the proper angle to pull himself up and over the cliff's edge himself. He needed Loki. This time Loki leaned forward and hooked his hands around Thor's arms, hoisting him up with all his strength. He managed to pull Thor up a few inches, just enough for Thor to reach some tiny foothold in the cliff-side and push himself up and over the rest of the way.

Thor landed on top of him and the air was knocked from his lungs, but Loki just wrapped his arms more tightly around Thor and held on. Thor held him back, Loki slowly calming in Thor's embrace. Loki breathed in Thor's scent and remained close, both of them holding each other for a long time. "Never do that again," Loki demanded weakly, his heart still rushing anxiously.

"I promise," Thor whispered. Loki felt lips brush his temple and he hummed contently, letting his eyes drift closed. Eventually the chilled air prompted them to move and they disentangled their limbs. They both looked around at their ruined camp, spoiled by bodies and blood. "Perhaps we should move on," Thor suggested. Loki nodded.

Loki walked back toward their camp to begin packing things up, bypassing Mjolnir to leave for Thor. Except he paused when he heard a confused grunt from Thor behind him, and turned to look. Thor was gripping the hammer's handle tightly, muscles straining as Thor attempted and failed to lift Mjolnir. After a few moments Thor gave up and stepped away with a muttered curse. He sounded betrayed, like a part of him had been taken away.

Hesitantly Loki stepped closer. Thor watched him but did nothing to stop him. Loki leaned down and wound his fingers around Mjolnir's handle, tensed his fingers and pulled. Mjolnir rose from the ground as though it weighed little more than air. Loki held it aloft, looking the mighty hammer over in awe and pride. _I am worthy_. But then Thor caught his eye and Loki looked past the hammer to his brother. Thor looked heartbroken but also proud, accepting. And that was when Loki knew.

Without a word, Loki held Mjolnir out in offering. Thor looked at him questioningly for a long moment, reading Loki's face before extending his hand. Their fingers brushed and locked for a brief moment as Thor took hold of the handle. For a moment they both possessed Mjolnir equally, and then Loki let his fingers drop away. Thor continued holding Mjolnir aloft, the rightful owner.

Loki saw the question in Thor's eyes and stepped forward. Loki sealed their lips together for a brief but confident kiss, and then pulled away. "This is the way it should be," he said. Thor smiled, dropped Mjolnir and used both hands to pull Loki into another kiss.


	3. Paper Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/

**Paper Crown** (Thor/Loki!children)

It was Thor's birthday and his parents had gotten him a paper crown to wear for his party. Odin had placed the crown on his head like it was real, like it was heavy, and Thor had grinned as everyone cheered and pretended to bow. It was a wonderful party. Now he was seated on the carpet in his and Loki's room; they were allowed to play for another hour before bed time.

Thor finally tugged off his crown after wearing it all day. When it lay flat in his hands, the material flimsy, he noticed that it had started to rip at the back. Suddenly Thor began to feel tears well up and spill over, wetting his cheeks. It had all been so exciting to wear a crown, to feel like he was king. But now he realized it was all so foolish. He would be a terrible king; he couldn't even take care of a fake crown! How could he take care of a real crown, a real city? He couldn't make everyone happy, couldn't protect the universe from bad people.

He sobbed and Loki looked up from his colouring book. Thor sniffled and tried to wipe at his face because he didn't want his brother to see him like this. But it was no use and Thor just cried harder when Loki came over to kneel beside him and pat his knee. "Thor, what's wrong?"

"I ripped my crown," Thor held the material up with trembling fingers. The paper ripped more and Thor threw it to the ground.

He watched through blurry eyes as Loki picked it up and trotted over to his crafts box. When he returned, the material was taped back up. It was a little lopsided since Loki hadn't quite managed to line up the edges, but it drew a wobbly smile to Thor's lips. "Good as new," Loki said as he placed the crown back on Thor's head.

Thor touched a hand to his crown. "I shouldn't even wear it. I'll be a terrible king."

Loki sat down beside him and wrapped his arms around Thor. "Don't say that. You'll be a great king someday."

"I don't know how," Thor sniffled again, though his tears had stopped. Loki always had a way of boosting Thor's confidence when no one else could. Loki's belief in him made Thor want to believe in himself. "I can't do it alone."

"You won't have to," Loki reminded him, leaning over to kiss Thor's cheek. "I'll be king with you."

"Two kings? Is that even allowed?" Thor wrapped his arms around Loki in return and pulled him closer.

Loki shrugged against him. "You'll be king. Doesn't that mean you make the rules? Besides, being king is too much work for one person."

"Yeah," Thor nodded at Loki's wisdom. "You're right. Let's do it together."

Loki rested his head on Thor's shoulder and hummed. "Promise?"

"Promise."


	4. Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/

**Revealed** (Thor/Loki)

"Thor, there's something I need to speak to you about," Odin motioned Thor to follow him away from the banquet hall full of people. Thor left gladly; he knew others were celebrating the disappearance of a threat, but it was impossible for Thor to celebrate with them when that threat was his brother. He wondered where Loki was now, if he was dead or lost in some vacuum of space after falling from the Bifrost Bridge.

"What is it?" Thor asked solemnly once they were alone on a balcony overlooking the city. Twilight was Loki's favourite hour. He told Thor once that he liked seeing the last rays of sun fill the horizon while stars began blanketing the darker sky. Thor looked to the sky and saw this, the stars and the sun in one sky for a brief moment. It made him miss Loki terribly, regardless of what happened on Midgard.

"There's something about Loki I feel I should tell you," Odin said gravely, standing tall with his hands clasped behind his back. "I fear it will upset you greatly but I do not think it right to hide it from you."

"What is it?" Thor said again, curious but also reluctant. He didn't like how concerned and nervous his father sounded.

Odin remained silent for a moment, staring out across the city. He wasn't looking at Thor when he said, "Loki was of Jotunheim. Loki Laufeyson."

Thor blinked. For a second the information was surprising, but when he thought about it things started to make more sense. It explained why Loki's skin had always been cooler than his, why the cold weather had never affected Loki the way it did others, why Loki was so gifted with magic. Loki Laufeyson. It still sounded wrong to Thor, but only because he still and would always think of Loki as his brother.

Thor shrugged to himself. Regardless of Loki's lineage or name, he _would_ always be Thor's brother.

"So?" he raised an eyebrow, wondering why Odin was telling him this in secret.

Odin was watching him and seemed surprised by Thor's answer. "So? That's all you have to say? Aren't you surprised, angry?"

"I'm surprised," Thor agreed. "And confused. I don't know why I wasn't told earlier. Did Loki know?"

Odin inclined his head slightly. "He found out and confronted me right before I fell into sleep. I fear this knowledge is what drove him to manipulate us all and brought his own demise upon himself."

"Don't blame him," Thor shot back quickly, feeling anger fill him with heat. "I would be upset too. I _am_ upset!" he corrected. "Why didn't you tell us, or at least him?"

"What did it matter?" Odin retorted. "I saved him, I brought him home. You sound just like him; so ungrateful. I did what I thought was best; he would have died if I left him."

"He still deserved to know," Thor argued, shaking his head. He thought back to his fight with his brother; how much pain must have been driving Loki's attacks? Finally Thor understood everything. "His lineage is nothing to be ashamed of," Thor said resolutely. "He is still my brother."

"Was," Odin corrected, but he sounded tired now, and sad. Despite everything, despite all his mistakes, Thor knew that Odin had thought he was doing what was best.

" _Is_ ," Thor emphasized, voice serious and low. "I will find him wherever he ended up and I will not rest until he knows he is loved."

Odin considered him seriously. It was night time now; the sun had faded and the stars shone above. Odin nodded, though Thor didn't know exactly what Odin was thinking. "Will you come back in?" Odin eventually said, taking a step back toward the banquet hall.

Thor shook his head. "No. I want to be alone."

Odin left him and Thor left the palace to step onto the Bifrost Bridge. He walked right to the splintered edge and sat down, watching the darkness of space swirl below him. "Loki?" he called softly. He knew it made no sense to speak quietly when Loki was likely so far away; but yelling didn't seem to make any more sense. He had no idea where Loki was and he felt a little silly, but Thor hoped Loki could hear him.

"I just found out that you're of Jotunn heritage," he told the darkness, willing his words to his brother's ear. "I want you to know that I don't care. You're still my brother, and I still love you." He took a deep breath and paused for a moment, thinking. He was still mostly sure he was talking to himself so he didn't feel very rushed. "I just wish I had known sooner," he said. "I wish I could have seen your true form. I bet your blue skin was beautiful." Thor smiled. "Your eyes would have been interesting as well; though I suspect you would have used them for mischief since no one would expect to see red eyes around the city."

Thor laughed and then grew sad again. "I miss you, brother. Twilight just passed and I thought of you." He looked to the stars for a long time, thinking but not speaking. Eventually he grew chilled and stood to head back inside. He thought of leaving without saying anything else but he felt an insistent tug at his heart, like Loki might be out there, desperate to hear more. "I'm going to find you some day," Thor promised. "You need to make sure you stay alive no matter what, because I want to see the real you. Promise?" he asked the air.

He didn't get a response, but the tightness in his chest faded. Thor smiled and headed back to the palace.


	5. Salvation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inception, Arthur/Eames
> 
> Based on this gorgeous drawing: http://sailingonthewind.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d4ygvvx

**Salvation**

 

“The dream is always the same,” Eames said. Arthur reached over and gripped his hand, perhaps too tightly but still comforting. “I hit the water and I’m dazed and I can’t find out which way is up. It gets darker as I sink and I give up. Then water fills my lungs.”

 

Arthur brushed his thumb over the back of Eames’ hand, drawing his gaze. “I’ll be there this time,” he promised. Eames gave a nervous smile and nodded. Then they slid the needle under their skin, feeling it pinch flesh, and then they drifted down into Eames’ dream.

 

The sickening twist that always accompanied a fall filled their stomachs a second before they hit water hard enough for it to hurt, for their skin to sting on impact. Arthur tumbled under the waves for a few seconds, dazed from hitting the water hard, but able to shake it off quickly since Eames had warned him about the impact. He blinked his eyes open, finding that he was already facing the surface, the sun twinkling above the waves.

 

He pushed himself to the surface quickly and took a gasp of air, filling his lungs before diving back down. This wasn’t Eames’ first time dealing with this reoccurring nightmare, but Arthur was hoping it would be his last. He spotted Eames quickly and would have rolled his eyes at the man; with his eyes closed then of course he couldn’t figure out which way was up. But Arthur knew that dreams occasionally had control over you.

 

Arthur swam down, abandoning the surface to pursue Eames. He reached him quickly and grabbed his hands, tugging upward. Eames wrapped an arm around Arthur to hold him close but otherwise didn’t respond. His face was turned up to Arthur and the sky but he didn’t open his eyes, didn’t fight as he drifted down into darkness.

 

Desperate, Arthur held Eames close in return and pressed his lips to Eames’. Then he blew all the air he had left in his lungs into Eames’ mouth, trying to revive him. Eames wasn’t dead yet, but his fight was gone. He felt Eames jump at the air and kiss him back greedily for a second, their lips sealed tight together, sharing life. Then Eames’ eyes flashed open, taking Arthur in and the surface above.

 

They parted unwillingly and began swimming toward the surface. Arthur’s lungs were burning but he saw Eames beside him, fighting to survive and to overcome this dream, and that gave him the motivation to keep pushing.

 

The dream ended as they broke the surface and dragged air into their lungs.


	6. Happy Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr: http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/
> 
> Written as a birthday present for my friend Lora. Hope you have a wonderful day, darling! :) http://lorichelle213.tumblr.com/
> 
> This story: Inception, Arthur/Eames

**Happy Birthday  
**

 

Arthur went into work expecting to leave with a headache. Based on the research he did for every co-worker he ever encountered, Arthur knew that it was Eames’ birthday. His thirtieth, to be exact. Arthur never paid much attention to that sort of thing but he knew someone’s thirtieth birthday was supposed to be special. Therefore, he was expecting a very loud and unproductive day at the warehouse.

 

It wasn’t that he was against celebrating or letting Eames enjoy his day. It was just that their mark was flying out of the country in three days and if they didn’t grab the lowly businessman-turned-millionaire in his hotel outside the airport then he would be difficult to track down again. And if they missed their mark then they would definitely have no chance of completing their job on time.

 

Arthur told himself that a little celebration wouldn’t hurt. They already had everyone’s schedules planned out, details re-checked, documents forged. Ariadne had the dreamscape designed and beautiful, and Cobb had spent the last two days going over all the research Arthur had pulled, ensuring he knew everything there was to know about their mark. Arthur himself only had so much more work he could do in advance, and Eames merely had to practice a simple forgery and brush up on his rusty French.

 

As he walked towards the warehouse, collar turned up against the heavy downpour, Arthur told himself again that one day of celebration wouldn’t hinder them. In fact, it might even help everyone relax and make them perform better. So Arthur pocketed a small bottle of painkillers, made sure he had some money in his wallet, cast aside any work expectations for the day, and stepped into the warehouse.

 

He was shocked when he found the interior of the warehouse so silent that he could hear the rain pattering against the windows. Ariadne and Eames were both asleep, hooked up to the PASIV, and Dom was skimming through the files Arthur had left on his desk. Dom looked up and gave him an acknowledging wave before dropping his gaze back down to the documents.

 

Arthur walked over to his desk and dropped his bag, taking a moment to shake the rain from his coat before hanging it up. He wondered if everyone had already said their birthday wishes, celebrated with Eames for a few excitable moments, and then switched back to work mode. Arthur didn’t exactly feel _disappointed_ that he missed out on the festivities – he hadn’t bought a gift and he didn’t know what to say anyway. But he hoped the others hadn’t cut the celebration short because they thought he would disapprove.

 

He was happy that everything seemed to be sorted though, the celebrating acknowledged and passed and everyone back to work. Arthur had been trying to figure out what he should say to Eames since ‘happy birthday’ didn’t seem like enough after all they had been through; ‘happy birthday’ was for acquaintances and friends, not for those who watched your back as you watched theirs on every job. He hadn’t been able to come up with anything more suitable and it had made him nervous, so now he felt more at ease.

 

The Point Man let himself slip into his work as time passed, pulling up more information on the mark and confirming that hotel and flight plans were still unchanged. He glanced over when he heard the PASIV timer, sending Eames a small smile that he hoped would convey the fact that he wished Eames well even if he had missed the celebrations. He would have said more but Ariadne trotted over then with her sketchpad, asking him for a few final suggestions on the dream.

 

The day passed quickly and when no one made any suggestion about lunch, Arthur opted to grab something to treat everyone. He placed the food on the centre desk when he returned but frowned in confusion when everyone grabbed their orders and returned to their respective desks. Arthur was all for being productive and focused but it was Eames’ birthday and it seemed a bit rude to leave the man eating alone.

 

A little uncertain but determined, Arthur took his box of food and sat down beside Eames, who was twirling a small pocket mirror around on the desk top while munching on his food with little interest. Eames glanced up at him with obvious surprise when Arthur sat down, but turned back to the mirror after a moment. Arthur could already see the beginning spider-webbing crack across the reflective surface from the abuse.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked, voice quiet. He wasn’t exactly hiding anything from the others, but he felt a little silly asking.

 

Eames sighed, letting the mirror clatter to the desk and fall still. Arthur watched him pick up his food with both hands and eat with a little more vigour. “I dislike the rain,” Eames informed him, looking past Arthur to the windows and dark skies beyond.

 

“An Englishman who hates rain,” Arthur raised an eyebrow, munching on his food slowly.

 

“Why do you think I moved to Mombasa?” Eames sent him a small smirk, though Arthur could see the corners of his mouth being weighed down again.

 

Arthur gave a weak smile in return and fidgeted with his fork. “So... do you have any plans for tonight?” he asked awkwardly, feeling very out of his comfort zone. Eames’ head snapped up as he quirked an eyebrow up. Arthur cleared his throat, feeling even more self-conscious now. “You know, for your birthday.” Eames was blinking at him silently, not uttering a sound, which made Arthur feel even more uncomfortable and put on the spot. “Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry I missed the celebrating earlier.”

 

“What celebrating?” Eames asked, confused and dull.

 

Arthur’s heart clenched in his chest. “Didn’t the others...?” he began to ask but trailed off, already reading the answer in Eames’ face. Eames was a master at hiding his feelings in dreams, but this was reality and Arthur had been around him long enough to recognize the way his face lengthened with disappointment. “They forgot,” he answered himself, voice hushed.

 

Eames gave a shrug that wasn’t as nonchalant as he probably intended. “I don’t blame them,” Eames said, voice quiet to keep it from carrying. “They weren’t the ones I was expecting to remember.” Arthur gave him an expectant look, knowing it wasn’t his place but curious anyway. “Just a few living relatives and very old friends,” Eames offered, though he didn’t seem to have the energy to elaborate. “It’s not likely I could have them over for dinner or anything, but a call would have been nice.”

 

Arthur watched Eames attempt another smile and then let it crumble. They both picked at their food for a few moments in silence, appetite gone. Arthur felt a heavy ache in his heart as he watched Eames attempt to hide his lonely disappointment, though he couldn’t help but remember the genuine smile that briefly emerged when Arthur made an effort to come over and talk to Eames.

 

No one would ever say that Arthur had much skill when it came to social interaction or celebration planning, but Arthur knew that he wanted to do whatever he could to make Eames’ day a special one. “Let me take you out tonight,” he requested, trying to keep his nerves out of his voice. He was aware of how out of character this was for him and could only imagine what Eames was thinking, but it all seemed worth it when Eames nodded and gave him a grin that could outshine the sun.

 

#

 

“Make a wish,” Arthur told Eames as he set the two cupcakes down, one with a single lit candle shoved through the icing. When he had asked Eames where he wanted to go, or what he wanted to do, he had been expecting the man to request a bar or some other form of nightlife. Instead, Eames had requested a quiet dinner out and then dragged Arthur into a hole-in-the-wall bakery they passed on their way back to the hotel.

 

Eames had picked out the cupcake he wanted and insisted that Arthur get a matching one. The Forger was looking his over, watching the flame flicker with his breath. Arthur recognized that familiar look of concentration and smiled at knowing Eames was thinking about his wish so seriously. There were certain childlike qualities Eames possessed – never-ending curiosity and excitement – that Arthur found endearing. Eames took a deep breath and raised his eyes to meet Arthur’s as he blew out the candle. “I wish you would kiss me.”

 

Arthur choked on nothing at his surprise. “You’re not supposed to say your wish aloud,” Arthur croaked, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing. He knew his cheeks were red; he could feel it.

 

“I guess I’ll take my chances,” Eames smiled at him, a look of understanding in his eyes. He looked nervous with his own boldness but it was clear that he wasn’t going to pressure Arthur.

 

This somehow made Arthur feel more confident and, before he could lose his nerve, he leaned over and kissed Eames on the cheek. He sat back hurriedly and began picking at the sprinkles on his own cupcake. “For good luck,” he explained softly.

 

Eames was silent and Arthur felt his stomach twisting with nerves. He snuck a glance at the Forger and couldn’t stop his smile when he noticed Eames staring at his cupcake with a dazed, blissful smile on his lips. Eames looked up and their eyes locked. “I’ll take it,” Eames beamed at him. “Thank you for making my birthday.”

 

“Anytime,” Arthur smiled in return and together they bit into their respective cupcakes.


	7. At the Fountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor/Loki drabble
> 
> A/N: I have no excuse for this. I don’t even know what it is. The mental image just popped into my head the first time I heard “Call Me Maybe” (again, I don’t know why) and it wouldn’t leave me alone so here we are. New story will be posted soon, but for now enjoy this drabble :)

Thor tugged at the fabric of his tie, agitated that they were being forced to wear their school uniform even though they were on a school trip _in Italy_. The teachers insisted that the colours of their outfits – red and gold – would help them keep track of all their students on the trip since there were many other schools taking tours at the same monuments. It seemed like a pretty weak excuse to Thor, especially as the sun climbed high and the air grew heavy with heat, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

 

He and the group of twenty other students from his school were all crowded around one part of the Trevi Fountain. Some were taking picture after picture while others giggled and threw coins into the fountain while clenching their eyes closed, silently reciting wishes. Thor looked down at the water, seeing the landscape of coins under the shifting ripples, sun setting the coins alight. So many people, so many wishes. Thor thumbed a coin between his fingers, wondering what he should wish for.

 

 _I want an adventure_ , he thought to himself. _Or a surprise. Something I’m not prepared for_.

 

With the words spoken in his head, words etched into his memory, he flipped the coin into the water. He watched the coin plop into the fountain, sinking with erratic sweeps through the currents to the bottom. Then he lifted his eyes and across the way on the other side of the fountain he saw what he thought might be his wish come true.

 

There was another boy on the opposite side of the fountain, eyes clenched closed and coin held tightly between two fingers. He was clearly concentrating diligently on his wish. He looked to be around Thor’s age, at the end of his high school career, but that was where the similarities ended. The boy had black hair to Thor’s blond, milky skin to Thor’s tan, agility to Thor’s strength. The stranger also seemed to be dressed in his school uniform, crest on his left breast and tie of black and green wound loosely around his neck.

 

Before Thor realized what he was doing, he had begun walking along the edge of the fountain. He bumped shoulders with a few people blindly, eyes on the boy still making his wish lest he disappear in the crowd. The teachers had told Thor and the other students that they were allowed to explore the small square with the fountain and a few blocks in each direction to look at the shops that were set up. Thor had a few more minutes but his goal wasn’t the gelato shop most of his friends had disappeared to.

 

Thor was halfway around the fountain when the mystery boy blinked his eyes open and tossed the coin and his wish into the fountain. The sun reflecting off the water caught the bright green of those eyes and Thor knew he was staring but he couldn’t stop, even when those eyes flickered over to him and widened. Thor felt his cheeks heat up at getting caught staring but instead of looking away or at least looking apologetic, he felt a huge smile curling his lips.

 

The black-haired boy glanced around for a moment, clearly trying to determine if Thor was really smiling at him. And then, seeming to realize that no one else was around him, the boy looked back to Thor. Green eyes scanned him critically, possibly reading for threats after all the talks tourists got about pickpockets and the like. Thor tried to look as innocent as possible, fidgeting with the end of his wrinkled tie and smiling like a moron.

 

Finally the suspicion slipped away and was replaced by a slightly confused but still welcoming smile. Thor smiled wider and trailed around the rest of the fountain. When he was standing directly in front of the stranger that had caught his eye he could see that those green eyes barely had to look up to meet Thor’s own blue ones. This was not an easy feat since the majority of Thor’s friends were only tall enough to stare at his jaw.

 

Suddenly at a loss for words, wondering what he was supposed to do now, what he had been expecting to happen, Thor extended a hand. Green slid down, considered, and then rose again. Thor felt a cool, smooth hand slip into his grasp and Thor wound his larger, warm fingers around the offered hand. They shook once, twice, three times, and then their eyes met. They both laughed lightly at the awkwardness and their hands broke apart, though Thor noted that his skin was tingling.

 

“I’m Thor,” he said quickly, nearly tripping over his words at his eagerness to say _something_ , to keep this encounter going.

 

A black eyebrow rose and then narrow lips quirked up a little more. “Loki. It’s a pleasure.”

 

“Loki,” Thor said the name, liking the way it sounded. He beamed wider. “Yes, it is a pleasure,” he agreed, and then fell silent. Thor and Loki stared at each other in silence until it grew awkward again. Everyone else was chattering around them but Thor felt oddly separate from the rest of the world at that moment. His eyes scanned the area as he tried to think of something to say, still wondering why he had come over in the first place. He remembered his wish he looked to the fountain and then back at Loki. “So what did you wish for?”

 

“I’m not telling you,” Loki said with a huff, though Thor could hear a lilt of teasing in that voice. “Then it won’t come true.”

 

“Fair enough,” Thor tugged at his tie again, wondering if he could blame the sun for how warm he suddenly felt. “So...” he cleared his throat, staring at his feet. He cleared his throat again, growing more embarrassed as the silence dragged on. Every topic of conversation that came to mind sounded too stupid. Thor wasn’t one to get nervous, or to stumble over his words. He loved talking to anyone about anything, charismatic and friendly, so he had no idea why he was tripping over his thoughts like a fool. “Sucks that we have to wear ties in this heat, right?” he asked, gave a nervous bark of laughter and then winced.

 

“Was there a point to this?” Loki questioned him. He sounded very bored, but when Thor looked up from his shoes he saw Loki fingering his tie with a playful smile.

 

Thor could feel the heat of his red cheeks but his smile began to creep back into his lips. “I don’t know,” Thor said honestly, shrugging. He grew more confident when Loki remained attentive and smiling even though Thor was basically wasting his time and making himself look like an idiot. “I wished for an adventure, or a surprise, and then I saw you... What?” he asked in confusion when he saw Loki’s eyes widen slightly.

 

Loki lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck, looking unsure but not necessarily unhappy. “That’s what I wished for too.”

 

“Really?” Thor gaped, his heart stumbling over its own pace. “No wonder I felt drawn to you!” He mused, grin returning.

 

Loki met his gaze and his smile turned very soft and warm. “How do you feel about raspberry gelato?”

 

“My favourite,” Thor admitted, curious now.

 

Loki’s smile grew, and then Thor’s heart fluttered when he felt Loki’s hand reach to hold Thor’s. “Good,” Loki said, tugging playfully as he began leading Thor through the throng of people toward the gelato shop on the corner. Thor laughed and followed Loki, not needing to be dragged. “Mine too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/)


	8. Kiss Me Through My Makeup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **To anyone who reads a lot of my stories, I strongly recommend you 'subscribe' to my profile on AO3. That way you will get email updates every time I post a new story. Fanfiction.net just deleted 25 of my stories without warning so I will be posting all of my stories on AO3 primarily from now on.**
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/)
> 
> #
> 
> This story is an Arthur/Eames drabble mixed with Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger. I tried out a new writing style so let me know what you think :)

**Kiss Me Through My Makeup** (Arthur!Mr. Mistoffelees/Eames!Rum Tum Tugger)

 

On the first day they were told “no dating co-workers.”

 

They knew that was just wishful thinking on the part of the director and choreographer.

 

#

 

The first time they worked together Eames sent Arthur a smirk and Arthur elbowed the air out of his lungs.

 

#

 

Their characters had a few scenes together; singing, acting and dancing. This meant that they had a lot of rehearsal time together.

 

It was the first time someone had to tell Arthur to pay attention in rehearsal.

 

To Eames it was business as usual.

 

#

 

Both were professional and determined. They began practicing together outside of scheduled rehearsal hours.

 

With increasing frequency they began grabbing dinner and drinks together afterward.

 

#

 

Practicing lifts became Arthur’s favourite exercise, feeling Eames’ strong hands on his hips and thighs. Eames was grateful for an opportunity to touch and hold Arthur while avoiding their choreographer’s disapproving scrutiny.

 

#

 

The first time they practiced on stage, they could feel eyes on them as they danced and sang together. They knew everyone saw their fluidity and heard their voices blend and resonate together.

 

It made them smile.

 

#

 

The first time Arthur saw Eames in his Rum Tum Tugger costume he laughed so hard he felt tears streaming down his cheeks.

 

The first time Eames saw Arthur dressed up as Mr. Mistoffelees he got a scolding from the makeup department after pinning Arthur to the wall and smearing the makeup with his questing lips.

 

#

 

The night before their opening performance they were told to rest their bodies and their voices.

 

Arthur found himself curled up on Eames’ couch, their lips sweet from strawberries as they slid together.

 

#

 

On opening night when Rum Tum Tugger danced close to Mr. Mistoffelees, audience members in the first few rows might have noticed the caress Rum Tum Tugger brushed along a pale jaw and Mr. Mistoffelees’ soft returning smile before dancing away.

 

#

 

They had two weeks left of performances and they were both growing impatient.

 

“I want to fuck you.” Eames nipped Arthur’s neck, hard. Makeup would not be pleased.

 

“How about I fuck you and _you_ can try dancing on Broadway with a sore ass?” Arthur growled, though he didn’t shove Eames off his back.

 

Eames relented and slid his cock between Arthur’s clenched-together thighs instead. His hand wound around Arthur’s waist to stroke him at the same time as they moved together.

 

They were loud enough that Eames’ upstairs neighbour knocked something against the ceiling warningly, but that did nothing to quieten them as they came.

 

#

 

At the end of the final show when everyone was taking their bows, Eames dipped Arthur and kissed him full on the mouth in front of the entire theatre.

 

#

 

“Are you coming to the cast party?”

 

“We’ll meet you there!” Eames shouted back before Arthur sealed their lips together again. The next person who asked through the locked dressing room door got a less friendly response.

 

Their costumes lay discarded on the floor in a trail towards the room’s sole couch. Mr. Mistoffelees’ suit and Rum Tum Tugger’s spandex and mane of fur. Arthur didn’t have a wig since makeup had just styled his hair into shape, though his cat ears had been lost thanks to Eames’ eager fingers.

 

Eames’ hands returned to Arthur’s hips as Arthur rose and fell. Their movements showed a familiar rhythm despite the novelty of the encounter. Arthur panted warm air against Eames’ neck and neither of them worried about straining their voices when their bodies arched and shuddered.

 

Arthur collapsed against Eames and they toppled over.

 

“Good?”

 

Arthur nodded and sucked at salty skin.

 

“What now?” Eames asked against Arthur’s hair, shy.

 

Arthur rolled them over. Eames’ back rested against the couch and Arthur sat above him. Arthur leaned down until their lips barely touched, their breath mingling. “More,” he said, and then descended.


	9. Tumblr Ask: Bane/Blake's favourite sex position

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not sure if I should be posting this here, but I figure it worked with "Drabble Central" more than making its own story. Someone on tumblr asked me what I thought Bane and Blake's favourite sex position was and I answered with a story.

It would happen quickly without any warning, because when Bane wanted something, he took it. John would still be groggy with sleep as he felt Bane rolling him onto his stomach. He would grunt in mind confusion but remain still as large hands skimmed down his back and over his ass, exploring greedily. And he would allow Bane to tug at his clothing, stripping him bare and leaving him exposed to the room’s morning chill.

 

John would shiver with the cold and then moan as Bane, all muscle and bared skin, straddled him. A knee would press into the mattress beside each of John’s hips, framing him and caging him in place right where Bane wanted him. Bane’s warmth would seep into John’s back as their bodies pressed close, and John would lean back for more contact.

 

Bane would place a hand on the middle of his back, pushing him back down against the mattress. Then he would move back slightly and grip John’s hips, by now familiar with the strength he could use to control and bruise skin without causing serious damage. John would moan louder, trusting Bane and allowing him to lead his ass into the air, putting himself on display for the larger man.

 

Bane’s fingers would slide in with relative ease, John’s entrance still slick from the night before. John would still curse and bite his lip when Bane twisted his fingers and spread them, but he would always ask for more on his next breath as he clutched at the sheets.  John’s eyes would clench closed when Bane finally pushed into him, slow for the first few inches and then more demanding until he bottomed out.

 

Then, once John was fully adjusted, Bane would put more weight behind the hand on John’s back. John would have no choice but to fall forward, his front fully plastered against the sweaty sheets as his knees gave out. Slowly, teasing and also cautious, Bane would allow his own weight to settle on top of John’s body, chest moulded against back and slowly squeezing the air from John’s lungs.

 

As Bane moved John would feel his own length rub against the mattress, offering just the friction and pressure he needed to moan loud in the back of his throat. At the same time he would feel Bane moving inside him, making him feel too full and too empty in an endless cycle that left him breathless and desperate for more.

 

John would press back for it, no shame in his movements now, just to feel the heat and weight of Bane’s form above him, keeping him pinned and immobile. He would love to feel Bane’s strength above him, knowing Bane would retreat if demanded but also knowing there wasn’t much John could do to fight him off except beg. After years of fighting for control and independence, never trusting anyone at his back, John would have finally found someone he trusted to give his control to. It would feel so good to be out of control, to have his pleasure in the hands of another – but only Bane’s hands. No one else’s.

 

Bane would love to press John down into the mattress, making John’s body move up and down the mattress with his strength and force. He would love to feel John clench around him and arch back for it, fighting him to feel his strength, test his trustworthiness, and yet not minding when he got pinned again. It would be an honour and pleasure to have John accept Bane into his body, challenge him without fear or desperation. To feel John’s body press up against his own, experience the man’s strength and then, knowing he was allowed, take him. Claim him.

 

The bed would rock and the wallpaper would suffer but neither of them would care. They would almost overheat with their bodies pressed so tightly together, Bane eventually wrapping his free hand around John’s stomach to pull his body and ass back up into the air slightly so that John could take more, take it deeper.

 

John would be the first to finish, his body receiving double the pleasure as he rutted against the mattress and back against Bane. His body would tense, his spine arched, and he would cry out as he shuddered. Bane would cradle his body close, selfishly, as he worked himself into John’s tightened body. He would groan loud and low and hold John almost too tightly, hearing his grunt as Bane rocked forward one final time and collapsed.


	10. Tumblr Ask: Arthur/Eames' favourite sex and cuddle position

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm not sure if I should be posting this here, but I figure it worked with "Drabble Central" more than making its own story. Someone on tumblr asked me what I thought Arthur and Eames' favourite sex position and cuddle position was and I answered with a story.

Arthur and Eames are equals, which means that they would sometimes clash in bed, especially on their first few encounters. They would fight for dominance. Eames would want to dominate because Arthur is a stubborn challenge (and Eames loves challenges), and Arthur would want to dominate because he would be untrusting of someone else being in charge of his body and his pleasure.  
  
They would start out kissing slowly because they’d be trying to gauge the other like a mark, rather than a partner. But their kiss would speed up quickly and become harsher because even that would be a competition. Clothes would be removed without ceremony and Eames would get the upper hand, using his weight to press Arthur down against the mattress and push the air from his lungs as he pinned Arthur.  
  
Their eyes would meet but Arthur would look away and fight Eames, trying to dislodge him, but Eames would pin his wrists and use the rest of his weight to still Arthur enough to catch his lips greedily again. Because he knows Arthur wants this even if he doesn’t want to lose control, and Eames wants Arthur to give up that control to him.  
  
Their lips would lock but it would still be a fight more than an embrace, both of them moving against one another but unable to go further without some resolution. Arthur would continue to press up against Eames, enjoying the friction but unwilling to give in. He would rut up against Eames and cause Eames to moan, his grip on Arthur’s wrists loosening. And, sharp as ever, Arthur would flip them and pin Eames’ back against the mattress.  
  
They would both be panting, their skin flushed as Arthur sat down on Eames’ lap. Their eyes would meet again but this time they would pause. They would realize, silently but together, that this had to be an encounter of trust and equality. Although Eames could physically overpower Arthur, he would allow Arthur to keep him pinned to the mattress, controlling the pace of their pleasure. And even though Arthur could fight Eames to the bitter end, he would offer his body over to Eames’ capable hands.  
  
Arthur would lean forward, hesitate, and Eames would reach up to hold the back of his neck and pull him the rest of the way down into a kiss. This kiss would be slower, passionate without the fight, and it would spark something entirely new that would have them both scrambling to scrape nails across skin and hold each other close.  
  
As Arthur finally sunk down, Eames would hold his hips; equal parts controlling and steadying. They would watch each other as Arthur adjusted, Arthur watching Eames’ patience and Eames watching Arthur’s determination. Then they would move together, both in control and both offering everything to the other.   
  
When their movements began to speed up, their rhythm lost, their bodies would end up pressed together, chest to chest, though they wouldn’t remember whether Arthur had leaned closer or Eames had pulled him down. It wouldn’t matter as their eyes drifted closed and their lips met. As their bodies arched and their nails dug into skin, they would moan the other’s name before finally calming.   
  
Arthur would lie on top of Eames for a while as he caught his breath and Eames would wrap his arms around Arthur to keep him close. But they would eventually overheat and Arthur would move to lie against Eames’ side. On his stomach, Arthur would rest one arm across Eames’ stomach, slightly possessive. And then they would doze like that, their bodies still recovering, as they remained close without clinging. They wouldn’t need to cling because they knew their mutual trust and surrender meant a lot more than just a good fuck.


	11. Tumblr Ask: Arthur/Eames' perfect date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this drawing: [Afternoon Snooze](http://sailingonthewind.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d4yfwaj)

When Eames walked up to Arthur with a picnic basket in hand, Arthur gave him a disbelieving look and turned back to his laptop. “A picnic?” he scoffed. “Really?”  
  
“You said I got to choose the date this time,” Eames reminded, setting the basket down on the desk beside Arthur’s keyboard.   
  
“But a picnic?” Arthur said again, not even bothering to turn from his keyboard this time.   
  
Eames leaned against the desk and caught one of Arthur’s hands with his own, forcing Arthur to stop typing and look up at him. “I think it’ll be good for us. When was the last time we slowed down and enjoyed a day for the sake of it?”  
  
“We are slowed down,” Arthur argued, though he didn’t pull his hand away from Eames’ grasp. “We haven’t taken a job in three weeks.”  
  
“And you’ve spent nearly every waking hour of those three weeks tracking that detective trying to tear apart the whole dream work industry,” Eames shot back, giving a pointed look to Arthur’s laptop. “Leave him to chase his tail, darling. And come enjoy the sun with me.”  
  
For a moment Arthur hesitated, but then he saw Eames’ hopeful look. Arthur saved his work and shut down his computer, deciding that an afternoon off really couldn’t hurt anything. Especially when it brought a smile to Eames’ face that never failed to give Arthur butterflies. “Alright, but I’m holding you responsible for the quality of this date.”   
  
“Trust me,” Eames said as he brought Arthur’s hand to his lips, kissing the skin affectionately. “I won’t disappoint.”  
  
Arthur gave a tiny smile and then detached himself from Eames, heading to the bedroom to get dressed. It was a hot summer day outside, clouds only skirting the horizon, so Arthur was forced to dress down into a loose-fitted shirt and jeans. Eames had already been dressed when he dragged Arthur from the computer, a tunic and khaki pants hanging lightly on his body as he waited by the front door. Eames mentioned that Arthur might want shorts instead and Arthur insisted he was fine, so they left the house without further comment.  
  
Since Eames was in charge of this date, Arthur allowed him to lead and didn’t comment when Eames led him to the car. They drove halfway across town and Arthur’s curiosity was growing, but he forced himself to remain quiet. When he finally saw where Eames had brought them, Arthur couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows slightly in surprise. Eames must have done some research on parks in the area because Arthur hadn’t even known this existed, which seemed foolish since it was massive.  
  
Arthur couldn’t even believe the park was so close to the city with its size, fields of green grass stretching for miles. Arthur let Eames hold his hand as they walked down one of the paths half-hidden by grass, Eames carrying the picnic basket with his other hand. The sun was hot as it shone overhead but there was a cool breeze whispering through the blades of grass, keeping the temperature comfortable.   
  
Finally they found a suitable patch of grass to themselves, a reasonable distance away from the other family picnics and kids they passed on their walk. They settled down on the grass, Arthur subtly rolling up his pant legs to avoid Eames’ ‘I told you so’ look. Arthur pulled the picnic basket toward them and opened it up, realizing how hungry he was after spending the morning at his computer. Eames had packed all of Arthur’s favourite foods and Arthur’s mood rose considerably as he ate.  
  
Once they were finished, Eames pushed the basket aside and lay down on his back on the grass. Arthur sat cross-legged by his hip, looking down at Eames expectantly. “Now what?”  
  
Eames opened one eye to look at Arthur, squinting against the sun. “What do you mean?”  
  
Arthur fidgeted with the rolled-up cuff of his pants. “I feel like we should be doing something.”  
  
“Arthur,” Eames smiled affectionately. “You need to learn that you don’t always have to be doing something. Sometimes you can just lie down and relax and not have to think about being productive.”   
  
“But I could be at home tracking that detective now though, so I could take a break later,” Arthur pressed, aware of time ticking by even though Eames had forced him to leave his watch in the car.   
  
“That’s my point though,” Eames laced his fingers with Arthur’s. “You never take that break. I want you to take it with me now. We’ll work more later, I promise.”  
  
Arthur considered arguing more but as he watched Eames’ face he could see how much Eames wanted this, wanted to spend time with him without thinking about time or work or deadlines. And Arthur realized that Eames was right; Arthur did often forget to take the break he always promised himself, and it meant disappointing Eames as well. He knew Eames understood, but it was about time Arthur fulfilled his promise.   
  
Aware of the fact that there were kids nearby, Arthur lay down carefully against Eames and caught his lips softly. Eames immediately smiled into the kiss and pulled Arthur closer, eager but undemanding. They kissed for a few minutes and Arthur realized how much he had missed this – how much he had been giving up to slave over his laptop. He reminded himself to make full amends when they were no longer in public.  
  
Eventually Arthur had to pull away before they got too interested, Eames already moving his hands along Arthur’s hips in the most appealing way. Eames gave a groan but released his hold on Arthur, likely understanding why they had to stop. Not wanting to stray too far though, Arthur lay down on his back with his head resting on Eames’ stomach. Eames caught Arthur’s hand and laced their fingers together, their joined hands resting on the grass.   
  
It was hot in the sun but the breeze tugged at Arthur’s clothes, keeping him cool and comfortable. The feel of his head rising and falling with Eames’ even breathing was calming, lulling Arthur into a content doze. At one point Arthur felt eyes on him and tilted his head slightly to meet Eames’ gaze. “Is this okay, darling?” Eames asked a little shyly.  
  
Arthur smiled and pulled their twined hands up to kiss the back of Eames’ hand, reminiscent of earlier that day. “More than okay,” he promised and then let their hands return to the grass. Their eyes held for another minute longer and then Arthur let his eyes drift closed, the sun and Eames’ breathing drawing him down into a relaxing afternoon snooze.


	12. Tumblr Ask: Arthur/Eames' First Meeting & Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inception - Arthur/Eames
> 
> Tumblr anon ask: "How did Arthur and Eames first meet each other? What were their first impressions of each other?"

“Alright everyone,” the teacher’s voice boomed in the small room, immediately quieting the students’ chatter. “You have all completed your individual assessments to determine your aptitudes and what dreaming role you would be best suited for.” Everyone nodded, Arthur remembering the many questionnaires he had been forced to fill out, and the three hours he had spent in a dream with a professional dreamer.

 

Without pause, the teacher continued. “Now’s the time to get some practice dreaming with a partner. We have paired you based on compatibility and matched you with dreamers of different roles,” he explained. Arthur glanced down at the sheet he had been handed to search for his name while the teacher continued to speak. “You’re with different dreamers because beyond training you can’t complete a mission with one type of dreamer alone. You need to learn to work together.”

 

The teacher continued to give instructions, explaining that each pair had been numbered off and they should come to the front of the class in that order. There were only twenty people in this specialized class; ten pairs. The majority looked to be around Arthur’s age of twenty but with a few older soldiers intermixed. Arthur hoped he got someone older, knowing they would probably be more professional about the whole exercise.

 

He skimmed his eyes down the page as the teacher called number one, and found himself as pair number nine.

 

_Arthur Tilmont – Architect_

_Jonathan Eames – Forger_

 

As number two was called, Arthur raised an eyebrow. What was a Forger? He did a quick skim of the rest of the page and realized that his partner was the only ‘Forger’ on the list. Based on the name Arthur could make a guess, that his partner would forge something, but what would he forge? And what would the purpose be? Arthur glanced around at the people standing around him but there was no way of knowing who his partner was yet.

 

Finally his number was called and Arthur stepped to the front of the room, casting his eyes around curiously. He was surprised and a little disappointed to see that his partner was a man only a few years older than him, uniform out of place and hair scruffy. This man didn’t look to be the sort of person Arthur would get along with, and now Arthur was more nervous than intrigued about what a Forger was.

 

Everyone was paired off and found a station to set up at. Only the very best had been invited into this classroom; twenty total because there were only ten dream devices to go around. The technology was still new and very expensive so they only offered it to those with the most promise. Arthur had sort of dropped his gaze and ignored his partner as he was handed a device and walked over to a pair of cots in the corner, but he couldn’t escape when his partner followed him and sat down opposite him.

 

“So you’re Arthur,” his partner said, sounding a little awed and excited. He extended a hand across the small table between them where Arthur had set down the dream device. “I know professors aren’t supposed to talk about their students but I heard them and they say you’re amazing.”

 

Arthur fought down his blush, accepting the hand briefly before busying himself with setting up the device. He hadn’t known the professors thought he was anything special beyond being skilled enough to get invited into this class. “And you’re Jonathan?” he said simply, feeling it would be rude to say he had never heard about the soldier before.

 

“Eames, darling, please,” he corrected with a bright smile, watching Arthur’s hands move precisely as he set up the device and timer based on their given instructions. “You’re very stiff and meticulous, aren’t you? I feel like I’m watching a surgeon perform heart surgery here.”

 

Arthur choked on a breath and refused to look up; he couldn’t quite tell if Eames was mocking him or not but Arthur had experienced that often enough to no longer find it amusing. “Someone has to be professional and make sure things are done right,” he defended snippily.

 

“Oh I agree,” Eames said quickly. “I meant no personal offense. I was just thinking that I would feel very comfortable working with you in the future because I’d know for sure you had covered every base,” his voice was warm.

 

Arthur was finding it difficult to figure out how he was supposed to react to that. To avoid the conversation he held out a lead to Eames, the device set up and all the other pairs getting ready to go under. “Here.”

 

Eames hesitated, smile turning nervous. “Actually, would you mind doing it for me?” Arthur raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I’m horribly scared of needles,” Eames explained, notably embarrassed now. “I can’t look to do my own.”

 

“How do you expect to do dream work in the future?” Arthur sighed as he stood up from his own cot to sit on the edge of Eames’, his partner lying down fully and shifting over a bit to leave room for Arthur.

 

“Maybe I could just keep you around,” Eames laughed weakly, face gone a little pale at seeing the needle between Arthur’s fingers. But Eames still pushed up his sleeve and offered his wrist up to Arthur trustingly, though his eyes were clenched closed. “I’m trusting you,” Eames said, voice strained.

 

“Just relax,” Arthur grumbled, cradling Eames’ wrist in his palm. Eames did calm slightly as Arthur held his wrist, warm skin pressed together. Then Arthur slowly slipped the needle under skin, getting the vein on his first try. “There,” he breathed as he carefully set Eames’ wrist down on the cot, reaching for some hand sanitizer to clean his hands before lying on his own cot to slip his own needle in.

 

Eames blinked his eyes opened and looked over at him as Arthur slid his own needle home, looking a little surprised. “I didn’t even feel that.”

 

“Surgeon’s hands,” Arthur tried to joke, confused about why it made him feel so pleased that Eames seemed calmer and not in any pain.

 

“I’m definitely keeping you,” Eames said strongly, but Arthur didn’t say anything in return as the teacher called for everyone to start their devices and Arthur’s consciousness drifted into darkness.

 

When Arthur blinked his eyes open he was standing in the middle of Trafalgar Square, London, England. Eames was standing beside him, their shoulders brushing slightly as large crowds of projections wandered around them, going about their day. Arthur knew he had only done the architecture so Eames had brought life to this dream, and he was impressed by how lifelike and smooth the projections were.

 

Eames was looking around him with wide eyes. “Have you ever been to London?” he asked Arthur after a few seconds, sounding awed.

 

“No,” Arthur admitted, warming slightly at Eames’ obvious approval. “But I knew I was going to have to do more dreaming soon so I did research on some locations I thought would be good practice to recreate.”

 

Eames whistled, taking another glance around the square before pinning Arthur with his gaze. “I know they labelled you an architect, and I can see why,” Eames began. “But I think they’re missing out on your full potential.”

 

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

 

“You should be a Point Man or something,” Eames said, continuing when he saw that Arthur was still confused. “You know, someone who does all the research before a job and runs point for an entire operation.”

 

“I’m not much of a leader, Eames,” Arthur admitted, huffing in embarrassment at his partner’s praise.

 

“The best leaders are the ones who don’t need to display their control,” Eames retaliated. “They plan ahead and remain aware to keep everyone on the mission safe while trusting their teammates to do their job well.”

 

“High praise for someone you’ve just met,” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, looking away to watch the many projections walk past. There was a little boy trying to climb onto the base of Nelson’s column, eyes wide as he looked up at the massive lions carved at the base.

 

Eames shrugged, sounding a little shy now. “You impressed me.” They were both silent for a long moment. “Just keep it in mind.”

 

Arthur nodded without saying anything, not trusting his voice. “Well now it’s your turn. What exactly is forging? You were the only one on the class list.”

 

“Yeah...” Eames trailed off, laughing nervously. “I was surprised by that actually. I figured anyone with a bit of acting background would be like me. Guess not.”

 

“So what is it?” Arthur asked, a little impatient now. He spun on his heel to look at Eames, having been previously avoiding Eames’ gaze while he got his embarrassment under control. His breath caught when he found a near-exact replica of himself standing behind him. His replica smiled, similar to the small tight smile he had offered Eames when they first met at the front of the classroom. “Eames..?”

 

“Sorry, I know this breaks every moral code,” his replica said in return. The image of Arthur was almost perfect, right down to the hair and eyes and neatly tucked uniform; all that Eames had missed was a few freckles across Arthur’s face that he knew would take more observation to pick up on. The voice still required a bit more work though. The British accent had been turned in for an American one, and Eames had adopted Arthur’s general style of speech. But there were a few words Arthur knew he spoke differently from Eames that his partner wouldn’t have heard in their brief conversation. “I just find this is the best way to show off my skills.”

 

“You only saw me for ten minutes tops,” Arthur said, still shocked. “And heard me talking for an even shorter amount of time. How could you possibly mimic me so well?”

 

His replica shrugged one shoulder, nearly breaking the realism for Arthur until Eames spoke again; just hearing Arthur speak a few more words had helped Eames tighten the forgery of his voice slightly. “I like to observe people, I suppose. I can’t exactly explain it. I’m not normally this quick though, truthfully,” Eames confessed. “But you were intriguing.”

 

Arthur blushed fully this time. “It’s a little unnerving talking to myself though. Can you mimic anyone else?”

 

“ _Forge_ , darling,” Eames corrected with a smile as he returned to his own form. “And I can forge anyone, technically. I just need to study them long enough. Some are easier than others though. The few times I’ve tried forging a woman I’ve needed to use a mirror to get the appearance right. Mirrors always help for a faster transformation, actually.”

 

Arthur continued to watch with wide eyes as Eames plucked a small hand mirror from his pocket and stared at it hard. From one blink to the next Arthur was now standing in front of a drill sergeant he had seen on the grounds. The students called her Mean Mary, and Eames had captured her sharp nose and stiff posture perfectly. “That’s...” he trailed off, surprised and impressed that his scruffy partner who was terrified of needles had such a gift. “That’s incredible,” he eventually breathed.

 

Eames returned to his own form, fidgeting shyly and smiling. “Thanks.”

 

Before they could say any more, the dream began to collapse around them. Arthur actually felt a little disappointed when he woke up on the cot and glanced over at Eames on the other cot, finding his partner blinking back at him with an eager smile. The teacher began speaking again and Arthur forced himself to sit up and listen. “I know that was a short first run but you’ll be partnered together for the duration of this class. Over time we’ll pair your pairs together to create larger groups so you can work with even more roles. If there were any problems, please speak with me after class once you’re done cleaning up the device.”

 

Everyone began cleaning and packing up. Arthur stretched on the cot and then stood to sit on the edge of Eames’, plucking the needle from his arm without needing to be asked. Then he busied himself with cleaning up the device and packing it away before cleaning his own hands again. It was only when he was finished that he risked meeting Eames’ gaze again. His breath caught in surprise when he found Eames still watching him, intrigued.

 

“Well this was an interesting first exercise,” Arthur offered uncertainly.

 

Eames seemed to blink and return to reality, eyes clearing as they focused on Arthur. “Yes, it was a pleasure. I’m really looking forward to class tomorrow,” Eames said with a grin.

 

Arthur couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged his own lips upward at the thought. He wanted to see more of Eames’ abilities, and he also wanted to do more research – both architecture-wise and maybe some other forms of research – to show off to his partner. “Yes,” he nodded. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/)


	13. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a holiday mini-bang on [AE Holiday Bang](http://aeholidaybang.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Prompt: Arthur and Eames are having their first Thanksgiving gathering that both sides of their families are attending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/)

“Was it entirely necessary for your mother to bring an _entire_ turkey?” Arthur huffed, setting down the heavy pan Eames’ mother had just shoved into his hands. “Didn’t you tell her we were already preparing a turkey?”

 

“I did,” Eames chuckled, standing behind Arthur and resting his hands on Arthur’s hips. “She wouldn’t listen.”

 

“But I can cook!” Arthur grumbled defensively.

 

“You forget that _I_ can’t,” Eames kissed where Arthur’s neck met his shoulder. “She’s used to preparing food before I get a chance to set something on fire.”

 

“We’re going to have so much leftover,” Arthur sighed, looking over the counter full of food. Many of the dishes were family recipes from either Arthur’s side or Eames’. And now they had _two_ turkeys.

 

“It’s okay,” Eames told him. “Your family could use some fattening up.”

 

Arthur sent a silencing glare over his shoulder. “We’re just naturally thin.”

 

“I’m only teasing,” Eames soothed. Arthur allowed Eames to turn him, back against the counter as their lips met briefly. He sighed contently when they pulled apart. “I’m very glad to have your family here.”

 

“Same,” Arthur smiled. “Speaking of,” he glanced to the doorframe that led to the living room. “Should we go make sure they’re getting along?”

 

“Probably smart,” Eames laughed. “My family needs constant supervision.”

 

They moved to the living room together, a small part of them expecting to walk in on disaster. Arthur knew his family to be rather aloof and proper when meeting new people and Eames had readily described his family as ‘a loud ball of excitement’. It hadn’t sounded promising. But everyone was still alive, at least, when Arthur and Eames stepped into the room.

 

Eames’ parents were loudly describing the night they had gotten drunk and nearly lost on their cruise in Mexico, Arthur’s parents looking a little shocked but still nodding and listening. At the same time Eames’ two younger brothers were crowding in around Arthur’s younger sister, who was trying and failing to hold in a laugh. It reminded Arthur of Eames’ attempts to woo him and it made him smile.

 

“It makes you thankful, doesn’t it?” Arthur spoke softly, both of them unnoticed in the doorframe as the families interacted.

 

“I’m just thankful there’s no blood to clean up,” Eames joked.

 

Arthur elbowed him in the side, though he was smiling. In response, Eames pulled him in for another soft kiss.


	14. A/E FBI Agents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur/Eames
> 
> Prompt I stumbled across on Tumblr: FBI agents forced to share a motel room

"I can't believe this is my life," Arthur muttered to himself as he shouldered the motel room door open, the hinges rusty and uncooperative. It was late and Arthur was exhausted, half tempted to fall into bed without even changing out of his travel outfit.

 

“Oh come on, darling, it’s not that bad,” Eames said from behind him, weighed down by a heavy duffel bag on each shoulder – one with his own clothes and the other with their surveillance equipment they would be using in the next few days on their stake-out.

 

Arthur only made it two steps into the room before he froze, his own duffel bag falling to the floor in a heap. “You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

 

“While I do so admire the view from back here,” Eames’ voice was light and teasing, “I’d appreciate it if you moved that fine arse of yours. These bags are heavy.”

 

Arthur spun on his heel and punched Eames in the arm – _hard_. Then he took one of the bags in his free hands and dragged it inside, allowing Eames to enter the room and close the door behind them as they set everything down. “You can’t tell me this isn’t ‘ _that bad_ ’,” Arthur demanded.

 

Arthur could tell the moment Eames noticed the bed. The _single_ bed. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah, _oh_.”

 

Silence reigned in the motel room for a few long seconds and then Eames cleared his throat. “Just think of it as a team building exercise. And the room really isn’t _that_ bad. I mean, whoever picked out those curtains had fine taste and the painting over the bed was just a... uh, a _lovely_ choice.”

 

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience. “I didn’t ask for this assignment, for you as a partner, and _certainly not_ for this room. The painting over the bed could be a masterpiece and I still wouldn’t care.”

 

Feet approached him and Arthur refused to turn around, even when he felt a warm hand hesitantly rest on his shoulder. Arthur tried to fight his immediate reaction to relax but failed, unhappy with the way Eames always seemed able to tame him with a simple touch. “They paired us up because they know we’re the best,” Eames reminded him. Eames squeezed Arthur’s shoulder and Arthur closed his eyes. “So let’s just nab this guy in record time and then we can get you home to your pristine apartment, alright?”

 

Arthur took a deep breath in, held it, released, and nodded. “Alright.” He was a professional. He could handle this. Arthur turned back around to face Eames, feeling that large hand slide from his shoulder. “Just promise to keep your hands to yourself.”

 

“Scout’s honour,” Eames’ smile was warm.

 

The next morning Arthur woke up in bed with a warm arm flung loosely around his middle, Eames’ head resting against his back between his shoulder blades as Eames snored on. Arthur rolled his eyes but didn’t move out of the embrace, allowing Eames to continue sleeping. He wondered silently if this was the result of an unconscious movement or if Eames had taken advantage of Arthur falling asleep first. But he felt warm and relaxed and decided that this might not be quite as horrible as he had imagined.


	15. 3-sentence Prompt Selection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had people on tumblr submit to me a pairing and AU setting and I would attempt to write a 3-sentence drabble for them. This is a selection of my favourites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of these stories are mature/explicit

**Prompt: Arthur/Eames where Eames has a teenage daughter. canon?**  
 **  
**— _bestillmyslashyheart_

#

“What if he kidnaps her, Eames?” Arthur worried as they both stood on the front porch, watching their daughter being led to her date’s car.  
  
“It’s just prom, darling,” Eames assured him, winding an arm around Arthur’s waist to pull him closer, “And if worse comes to worse we’ve already done a full background check; he won’t get far.”  
  
Arthur nodded and leaned a little more of his weight against Eames, waving when Sophia offered them one final smile and wave before disappearing into the car.

#

**kaikogetsu** **asked: And another challenge. Jensen/Pritchard as merpeople in big blue ocean =)**

#

“Jensen, you can’t go to the surface, especially for some stupid human girl like Megan!” Pritchard grabbed Jensen’s wrist and swam against him, barring him from traveling further to the surface.   
  
“You can’t stop me,” Jensen swam with more force, his tail knocking against Pritchard’s own as he struggled closer to the break of waves above them.  
  
Pritchard looked up to the sun, which was distorted through the waves, and then swam up to match Jensen’s eye level, “Then I’m coming with you.”

#

 **Anonymous asked: can I ask for Jensen/Sarif set in 1930', old school gangsters please? /you know, hats, suits, fancy cars, whiskey cigars revolvers hot steamy smex/**  
  
#  
  
“How’s the casino, Adam?” Sarif leaned against the balcony beside him, their elbows knocking together as they both overlooked the bustling casino floor.   
  
“Fine, boss,” Jensen took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up as he maintained a watchful eye on the patrons of Sarif’s most popular casino, “As always.”  
  
“I knew hiring you was the best decision I’d ever make,” Sarif praised his new security chief a moment before plucking the cigarette from Jensen’s lips and bringing it to his own, smirking as he breathed deep.

#

**Anonymous asked: If it's not too much trouble, Arthur/Eames during the French Revolution?**

#

Eames tracked the smartly-dressed servant around the room and followed him when he exited into the hallway. “Shouldn’t you be flirting with the ladies of court?” Arthur asked him, pausing and turning to him only when they were a safe distance from the banquet hall.  
  
“How many times must I tell you that no one in court is as pretty as you?” Eames said with a smile, stepping up to Arthur and tenderly sealing their lips together.

#

**lorichelle** **asked: Tom and Joe! ;)**

_Setting request added: TDKR set_

#

Joe felt his heart jolt when Tom glanced in his direction; this was the first time Joe was seeing Tom in full costume and between the muscles and mask Tom was a formidable sight.  
  
“What do you think?” Tom called to him, arms spread wide to display the complete image of Bane.  
  
Joe’s feet carried him forward as he ignored that initial thrill of fear; he wrapped his arms around Tom for a hug as he spoke, “It’s been too long since Inception.”

#

**kaikogetsu** **asked: May I send another 3-sentences ask? ^^ Jensen/Pritchard, Medieval Europe setting.**

#

“Jensen, you forgot your shield!” Pritchard yelled, picking up the shield and holding it aloft as Jensen hesitated in the doorway and walked back to him.  
  
“Don’t tell me you’re worried, Pritchard,” Jensen teased, though he still took the shield on his own arm.  
  
“I just can’t imagine being a squire to any of the other knights being anymore sufferable than with you,” Pritchard snipped, ignoring the way it made Jensen’s lips curl up at the corners.

#

 **asimplesong** **asked: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson. Film noir setting. Please?**  
  
#

“I told you I could handle them on my own,” Clint holstered his gun as he knelt in front of Phil, who was clutching his arm where a stray bullet had caught him, “There’s no place for honourable men on these streets.”  
  
“What about you?” Phil watched him, eyes far too knowledgeable as Clint unwound the scarf from his neck and wrapped it around Clint’s arm to stem the flow of blood, “You can pretend all you want, but we both know you didn’t need to try to protect me.”  
  
Clint met Phil’s eyes for a moment and then looked away towards the alley mouth, his heart racing but unwilling to put any confession into words, “Let’s just get you safe for now.”

#

**mochimusha** **asked: Thor/Loki mobster AU please? :D :D :D**

#  
  
Loki sat by the bar, lips moving silently as he counted out the stacks of bills; he barely paused when Thor took the bar stool beside him and leaned closer, his breath sharp with the tang of alcohol, “Dance with me.”  
  
“I don’t dance with my enforcers,” Loki reminded Thor again, as he did every night they found each other at the bar, Loki counting out their earnings from the last run Thor oversaw.   
  
“Someday,” Thor said it like a promise, brushing his large hand along Loki’s arm and rumpling his suit jacket sleeve before sliding off the stool and lumbering away. Loki forced himself to keep his eyes on the money instead of turning to watch Thor’s retreating back, knowing that Thor was right and that it was only a matter of time.

#

**hallulawy** **asked: Hiddlesworth and high school au please!** **⊙v** **⊙(if it's not too troublesome)**

#  
  
Tom was going on and on about how much of a success the school play was going to be, and how amazing Chris was going to be, but all Chris could feel was the knots in his stomach making him wonder if he had time to run to the bathroom and puke before the curtain rose.   
  
Chris forced himself to ignore his twisting stomach and instead focus on the shivers running down his spine as Tom’s fingers slid through his hair to finish the braid, patting him on the shoulder encouragingly when he was done.  
  
“How about a kiss for good luck?” Chris was brave enough to ask when Tom moved to stand in front of him, feeling his heart flutter maddeningly as Tom hesitated for just a moment before swooping down to seal their lips together.

#

**hanna377148** **asked: Thorki; related by blood and caught out.**

#

As the door burst open and blinding light spilled onto their shadowed bed, Loki felt a few tears catch in his lashes; he rocked in Thor’s lap to feel their bodies joined for what he knew would be the last time.   
  
But before the guards reached them Loki felt Thor pull him down against his chest and hold him close, using all of his strength to keep Loki with him as he spoke in his ear, “We will always be one.”  
  
Loki nodded and kissed Thor’s jaw before the guards’ hands were on him, wrenching him away; he knew that no matter what happened they would be okay, because they would always fight to stay together.

#


	16. Arthur and Eames, Shower Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This drabble is exlicit.**
> 
> Written for princess-joseph's prompt on tumblr:
> 
> "in which Eames and Arthur are in the shower, and Eames “accidentally” drops the soap and says
> 
> “oops. better pick it up darling.”
> 
> Arthur shoots him a wry look before slowly bending down, making sure Eames gets a full view of his backside."

The bar of soap hit the bottom of the shower with a dull thud. Arthur heard it over the roaring spray of the shower, as well as Eames' quiet and not even close to regretful "Oops."

 

Arthur looked over his shoulder, taking in the sight of Eames' soapy chest before pinning Eames with a warning glare. "Really?"

 

Eames faked innocence, eyes wide as he shrugged. "It's slippery. You can't blame me for the way soap is."

 

"I told you we have to meet up with Dom at 8am sharp," Arthur sighed, glancing down at the soap, which had settled in the dip above the drain, before looking back to Eames.

 

Eames' expression could only be described as a leer. "Better pick it up, darling. We must'nt keep Dom waiting."

 

Arthur shot him a wry look, somehow struggling even now to remain frustrated with Eames. Then he bent over at the hips, ensuring that his ass was in perfect view for Eames as he grabbed the soap off the shower floor.

 

He wasn't surprised when he felt two familiar hands grip his hips tightly, pulling him back until Arthur could feel the swelling ridge of Eames' cock rubbing between his cheeks. Arthur straightened up and grabbed the caddy hanging from the shower head for stability, moaning loud enough to be heard over the shower as Eames crowded him against the cold tile.

 

Eames began to rock against Arthur more insistently, one of his hands tracing the shape of Arthur's hip down his front to grip Arthur demandingly in his fist. The steam made it hard to breathe as Eames licked water droplets from Arthur's neck and shoulders and it only took mere seconds before Arthur was panting, matching Eames' rhythm as they built, built and finally broke.

 

Arthur's nails caught on the tiling as he searched unsuccessfully for something to grip. His head fell back against Eames' shoulder and Eames was right there, mouthing at his shoulder as they spilled their pleasure.

 

The shower spray sounded like static in Arthur's ears as his recovered from his orgasm. Eames panted against his skin, whispering Arthur's name again and again like a mantra. Arthur could feel their seed being washed away from his ass and legs but he knew he would still have to start his shower routine all over again.

 

Unbothered in his post-orgasmic haze, Arthur turned in Eames' embrace and sealed their lips together. Dom could wait.


	17. deaf!Eames/Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave this 3-sentence prompt its own chapter because it really stole my heart.

**Anonymous asked: Arthur/Eames AU where one of them is deaf and the other is hearing**

#

Eames watched as Arthur studied the book on the table, imagining the sound of Arthur's fingers fidgetting with the corner of one page. Eames read the concentrated furrow of Arthur's eyebrows, and the faint blush on his cheeks a moment before Arthur turned to him and slowly signed.  
  
 _I guard you._  
  
It was an easy mistake for a beginner to make, Arthur crossing his arms in front of his chest but forgetting to curl his hands into fists for 'love'. Eames felt laughter shake his body, deaf to the sound though it made Arthur's eyes widen. Before Arthur could get too self-conscious Eames signed back, _'I guard you too_ ' and then pulled him closer for a kiss.


	18. Shared Fashion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [the post](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/post/55305538278/grizzly-bear-bane-forgingismybusiness) of someone pointing out that when Eames forges Browning, he uses Arthur's outfit from reality on the plane.

“How are you going to reconcile them if they’re so estranged?” Arthur asked as he picked up the gun and walked back towards Eames, en route to the warehouse door he would need to keep secure.

 

“Well I’m working on that, aren’t I?” Eames said, hands on hips and stress tightening the lines around his mouth.

 

“Work faster,” Arthur snapped, halfway to brushing past Eames when he stilled, noticing the Forger’s attire. Sleek black suit jacket, white collared shirt with faded gray vertical stripes, burgundy tie with a white spotted design. “Eames...” Arthur hesitated for half a second, caught off guard by seeing _his_ outfit on _Eames_. Then he caught himself and met Eames’ questioning gaze. “Should I take this as an insult?”

 

“An insult?” Eames raised an eyebrow, shifting his weight. Fischer’s mind was revolting around them; they didn’t have time for this. Yet for one second Arthur found himself unable to pull away.

 

“That when forging an old crotchety businessman you choose my clothes,” Arthur added, and then smirked. “Or is this just proof that you’re incapable of dressing yourself and need to steal fashion ideas as much as faces?”

 

“Maybe, darling...” Eames rested a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and drew him closer, leaning in at the same time. Eames’ full lips brushed along Arthur’s jaw and whether it was because of the electricity in the air of danger approaching or despite it, Arthur shivered. “You should take it as a compliment.”

 

Eames’ lips quirked up into a smile against Arthur’s skin and Arthur felt himself leaning even closer. Then the moment was broken by the sound of gunfire and they pulled apart, Arthur heading to the warehouse door, gun raised. Now wasn’t the time for whispered words or unnecessary touches, nor should the reason for Arthur’s racing heart be the lingering scent of Eames’ cologne.

 

Still, perhaps if they both survived this... It was something to consider.


	19. French Fries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on hardyness' prompt on Tumblr, asking for a "French fries day" :)

Arthur felt his stomach clenching with hunger but ignored it, straining to keep his focus on his computer. Everyone else had already headed back to the hotel for the night, but Arthur would not let himself rest. They only had three days left before they had to collect their Mark and, due to some leak Arthur was unaware of or just some annoying sense of paranoia, their Mark had upped his security. Arthur refused to have his team at risk and wouldn’t green-light the job until he was certain his research was perfect and complete.

 

The sound of the heavy warehouse door falling closed caught his attention and Arthur glanced up just in time to see Eames walking directly towards him. Eames offered a small smile and took the seat across the desk from Arthur, saying nothing to distract Arthur from his work as Eames set a carton on the desk and pried it open.

 

The scent of French fries hit Arthur’s nose and his stomach growled loudly. Eames’ lips quirked up and Arthur felt his ears burn, his self-consciousness growing when Eames nudged the carton to the middle of the desk where they could both reach it; welcoming. Instead of giving in, Arthur dropped his gaze back to his monitor; at this point if he ate his body would slow down and he wouldn’t accomplish anything else for the rest of the evening.

 

Eames said nothing but after a few minutes Arthur made the mistake of looking up again. He found himself transfixed, watching the long fries disappearing past those unbelievably-full lips. Eames noticed the attention but didn’t stop, merely sending Arthur a wink before grabbing another fry. Arthur was about to look away again when the next fry disappeared, but then Eames lifted his fingers and, one finger at a time, sucked off the excess salt.

 

Arthur felt his mouth go dry, and his stomach rumble again.

 

This time Eames laughed openly and seemed unwilling to allow Arthur to continue being stubborn. He pushed the carton closer to Arthur until it nearly nudged Arthur’s laptop. “You can afford to take a short break, darling. And before you decide to argue,” Eames added when Arthur opened his mouth, “Know that if you don’t, I’ll feed you myself.”

 

For an instant Arthur’s mind was filled only with the image of Eames offering him fries one by one, and then Arthur sucking Eames’ fingers into his own mouth to suck clean. Then he shook his head clear and reached across the desk, taking a small handful of fries to set beside him and eat one at a time. Eames sent him an affectionate smile and Arthur offered a small smile in return.


	20. Dinner's Served

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a-forger-and-a-point-man's prompt, asking for Arthur cooking Eames dinner, and Arthur in lingerie ;)

Eames woke to the smell of spices in the air and felt his stomach growl appreciatively. It had been at least a day since he had eaten anything. After his job went sour he had raced out of Brazil as quickly as he could manage, arriving on Arthur’s doorstep with barely the energy to drag himself far enough into the pristine flat before collapsing. Eames had vague memories of Arthur getting him to bed and tending to his wounds, and could feel the bandages on his skin as he stood up from the bed, but remembered nothing else.

 

The clock read 7pm; Eames had slept nearly an entire day, catching up on the sleep he hadn’t gotten during the dangerous job. He knew he shouldn’t have taken the job; Arthur had cautioned him against it. But while Eames prided himself on his ability to get out of any situation, he didn’t always make the _best_ choices.

 

Eames rubbed his face, trying to wipe away the groggy haze from his mind. Then he walked out into the hallway, searching for the source of the delicious smell in the air. He stopped short in the doorframe of the kitchen when he found Arthur, standing at the stove and stirring a boiling pot of pasta. Eames had seen Arthur cooking before; that wasn’t new.

 

What _was_ new was the sight of Arthur dressed only in a sleek black apron and a pair of black lace panties which were on full display along with Arthur’s smooth back. Eames swallowed thickly and stepped forward until he stood beside Arthur. He rested his hand on Arthur’s back, feeling his warm skin, and then let his hand slide down to grip Arthur’s ass through his panties.

 

“Interesting choice in attire,” Eames said, voice rough with desire.

 

“How much longer were you expecting me to wait?” Arthur raised an eyebrow but didn’t turn away from the pots on top of the stove.

 

Eames felt a flash of guilt; he had made Arthur worry. Not interested in making Arthur wait any longer, Eames began slipping his fingers beneath the lacy panties and jumped away when Arthur smacked his hand with the wooden spoon in his hand. “Arthur, you said—” Eames began in confusion, massaging the pain from his hand.

 

“I know what I said,” Arthur sighed. “But I’ve been working on this sauce for over an hour and I refuse to let it burn.”

 

Eames wavered for a moment, sensing the tension between them. He had been gone too long; Arthur was an independent man but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. Wanting to reconcile, Eames slid his hand back down to hold Arthur’s bare hip and shyly kissed the warm skin of Arthur’s shoulder. “Dessert, perhaps?” he suggested.

 

Eames smiled fondly when he saw Arthur blush and felt his shoulders relax. “I wouldn’t mind being dessert,” Arthur said softly. Feeling more confident, Eames reached forward and turned Arthur to face him. Their eyes held for a long moment and then Eames leaned forward, catching Arthur’s lips with a warm, loving kiss.


	21. Remember When

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a-forger-and-a-point-man's prompt asking for A/E in their 50s/60s with happy fluff :)

“I can’t believe Rose has grown up so fast,” Arthur sighed proudly as he watched Rose slow dance with her new husband on the dance floor. Ariadne was standing off to the side watching; the epitome of a proud mother. Arthur weathered his lip for a moment. “Eames, do you ever regret that we didn’t have kids?”

 

Eames’ hand held Arthur’s own on the table and squeezed reassuringly. “Sometimes I think it would’ve been nice to raise a kid with you,” Eames admitted. “But then I remember that it would mean I had to share you.”

 

“Cheeky,” Arthur chuckled.

 

“As always,” Eames agreed.

 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the happy couple dance for their song before other couples joined them on the dance floor. “It’s odd,” Arthur spoke up after a while, mostly lost in thought. “When we were just starting out, when we got married between a whirlwind of dangerous jobs... I never thought we’d end up here. So many nights I feared one of us catching a bullet, or getting caught by the wrong people...”

 

“Arthur,” Eames’ comforting, familiar voice drew Arthur back to the present. “We’re safe, love. We’re legal now.”

 

“I know,” Arthur forced his body to relax. “Once in a while I think I miss the rush of danger. But I don’t; not when I have this,” he squeezed Eames’ hand in return. He turned and smiled at Eames, his loving and supportive partner. “I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

 

Eames leaned forward to catch Arthur’s lips. When Eames pulled away he stood, slowly pulling Arthur to his feet. Neither of them were as strong and agile as they once were, but they leaned on one another and remained strong as a pair. “Dance with me,” Eames requested as he offered an arm, which Arthur took as Eames led him to the dance floor and pulled him into an unhurried sway.


	22. Show Me the Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on duntledelisle's prompt: Despite his reputation, Eames actually has rather limited sexual history and Arthur finds this out when he finally gives in to the flirting

“Uh, Arthur? Ha-hang on a moment,” Eames stuttered as he was pushed back onto the bed, Arthur crawling on top of him and sealing his mouth on Eames’ neck to suck a dark, claiming mark. Eames moaned loudly but pushed Arthur away, feeling his heart racing so quickly he could barely breathe.

 

Arthur sat back on his heels, eyes suddenly narrowing. “Are you about to tell me that you’ve been flirting with me _incessantly_ for three straight weeks and it was all just a _joke_?” Arthur snapped. Arthur sounded angry but Eames could hear the underlying hurt and embarrassment. “Fuck you, Eames,” Arthur spat as he pulled himself away, beginning to get off the bed.

 

“Wait!” Eames cried out quickly, catching Arthur’s wrist and pulling him back down. Eames felt self-conscious as he switched their positions, pinning Arthur to the mattress, but he couldn’t let Arthur leave with this misunderstanding. “Arthur, darling, it wasn’t a joke. Since I laid eyes on you I’ve wanted you.” To prove his point, Eames hesitantly rubbed his clothed erection against Arthur’s hip. “I’m just...rather new.”

 

The anger in Arthur’s eyes left way for confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. Then realization had his mouth opening slightly. “You flirt that boldly and yet you’re a virgin?”

 

Eames ducked his head, knowing his face was beet red. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

 

“It’s alright,” Arthur said, voice quiet and comforting. Eames turned back when Arthur cupped his cheek with a palm, leading him, and didn’t fight it when Arthur pulled him down into a much softer kiss than the previous frenzied ones they had shared. Eames moaned again and pressed himself closer, feeling the pressure in his groin continue to build.

 

“ _Arthur_!” Eames gasped suddenly when Arthur’s hand trailed down Eames’ body to touch his erection through his pants, Eames’ hips canting down.

 

When he looked up Eames saw that Arthur was smirking; playful with a gleam in his beautiful brown eyes that Eames had never seen before. Eames groaned louder when Arthur began to massage Eames’ length through his pants, though he wasn’t rushing. “I’ll show you,” Arthur promised and pulled Eames back into a kiss as he continued his wonderful work.


	23. Steal My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on asimplesong's prompt asking for an A/E drabble inspired by the movie "How to Steal a Million". I haven't seen the movie yet but I did my best :)

Eames watched with an ache in his chest as Arthur groaned, burying his face in his hands. They were in a back-corner booth of a quiet bar; they wouldn’t be interrupted or overheard here. “Eames, when the curators at the museum test my father’s painting they’re going to find out it’s a fake. He’ll go to jail for this!” Arthur lamented.

 

Eames pushed his glass of scotch away, unable to enjoy it. Instead he reached across the table to hesitantly touch Arthur’s hand, unsure of boundaries. He couldn’t believe he had gotten himself into this situation; an expert in art forgeries and now he was going to help a forger get away with it! Well, it wasn’t the forger himself that Eames cared to help; it was _Arthur_. The injustice of the situation had Eames fidgeting but he would do whatever he could to help Arthur.

 

He was too in love _not_ to help.

 

“We’ll steal it,” Eames said after a moment, catching Arthur’s attention. Arthur pulled his hands away from his face and allowed Eames to lace their fingers together as he continued to speak. “If we steal it before they test it then they’ll never know the painting was a fake.”

 

“How could we _possibly_ steal the painting from the museum?” Arthur sighed. “The security will be ridiculous.”

 

Eames grimaced but knew he had already made his decision, and he was determined to help Arthur. “I have a plan,” he said confidently.

 

Arthur sought his gaze and gave a reassured nod. “Thank you, Eames. For everything,” Arthur said and rested his other hand on top of Eames’ own, and that was when Eames knew he had made the right choice.


	24. Better Left Unsaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a-forger-and-a-point-man's prompt asking for a celebration in the hotel room after Inception with A/E

Arthur watched out of the corner of his eye as Dom headed for the airport exit where Miles was waiting. Finally his friend had made it home; finally they could all rest. A hand brushed by Arthur’s elbow as Eames leaned forward, plucking his own suitcase from the conveyer belt. Their eyes met and Eames gave him a smile. Without words they headed for the exit together, suitcases in tow.

 

They didn’t speak in the taxi, though the air was alight with contained excitement. They had done it. Inception was a success! More than once Eames caught Arthur’s gaze and Arthur had to look out through the window to keep from smirking; they had a lot of celebrating to do.

 

In the hotel room Arthur had booked in advance they barely got the door locked before Eames had Arthur against a wall, pulling away Arthur’s tie while also kissing lines on the column of Arthur’s neck. “Do you think we should’ve told them?”

 

Arthur could feel Eames’ smile on his lips as he continued to taste Arthur’s skin. Arthur laughed breathlessly, working open the buttons of Eames’ shirt as he spoke. “It’s been two years. If they haven’t realized we’re married yet then they don’t deserve to be told.”

 

Eames threw Arthur’s tie to the floor and got his shirt shoved off his shoulders at the same time as Arthur pulled off Eames’ shirt and dropped it. For a second they paused, admiring their wedding bands on solid chain which was always safely hidden beneath their clothing on jobs. Arthur touched a hand to Eames’ ring around his neck, feeling Eames swallow before he smiled. “I’m in love with you, Arthur.”

 

“I know,” Arthur smiled too, lifting his gaze from the ring to Eames’ face. “I’m very much in love with you too.” And then, because it had been far too long since Arthur had gotten to taste Eames’ lips, Arthur pulled Eames into a deep, hungry kiss.


	25. Heel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompt: A/E genderbending. This is my first genderbending fic and I'm actually pretty happy with it :)

Eames was minding his own business, dancing happily near the middle of the dance floor as the club music pulsed around him, when someone stumbled against him. On instinct he threw his arms out, catching the black-haired woman before she fell completely to the floor. She allowed Eames to pull her back to her feet before she shoved him away, wobbling for a moment before standing tall on her own.

 

“Are you alright?” Eames shouted above the music. “Let me help you!” he added in a rush when she turned to storm away and stumbled again.

 

He couldn’t hear a response but he received the message loud and clear when she shot him a glare. Eames would’ve let her go to fend for herself, not interested in pushing himself on someone, but he saw her stumble again and quickly rushed forward. He offered his arm as some form of support and she finally accepted his help.

 

They made their way over to an unoccupied booth by the wall. As soon as she was close enough to the seat the woman pushed herself away from Eames and sat down heavily, leaning down to inspect her shoe. That was when Eames saw the problem; the stiletto heel of her shoe had nearly snapped off.

 

“Can I help?” Eames asked, not needing to yell as much since they were further away from the speakers.

 

She glanced up at him again, brown eyes hard and unwelcoming. “I am fully capable of taking off my own shoe. I don’t need your help.”

 

“You let me help you over here,” Eames pointed out, not sure why he was so insistent on helping such an unfriendly woman.

 

“Because it seemed obvious that if I continued on my own you’d insist on sweeping me off my feet and _carrying_ me here,” she said, which Eames wasn’t sure he could refute. She turned back to her shoe and pulled it off her foot. She considered it for a moment and then sighed before snapping the heel completely off.

 

“What’s your name?” Eames asked, knowing he was hovering awkwardly but not sure if he should leave since the woman seemed slightly less hostile towards him now.

 

She paused and considered him seriously for a long moment, narrow lips pursed. Then she gave a half-hearted shrug as if reassuring herself that it didn’t matter if Eames knew. “Arin.”

 

“I’m Eames,” he introduced himself with a smile. “Listen, Arin...” he began and then paused when he watched Arin reaching for her second shoe. Quickly Eames knelt down and carefully slid the shoe from Arin’s foot, handing it to her when he was done. They stared at each other for a moment before Arin took the offered shoe and raised an eyebrow, reminding Eames that he had trailed off mid-sentence. “Would you let me buy you some ice cream?”

 

“Ice cream?” Arin echoed, her eyebrow rising towards her hairline now. “Don’t most men offer to buy women drinks?”

 

“If they’re looking for a one night stand,” Eames informed her.

 

“And what are you looking for?” Arin asked him seriously.

 

“A good conversation partner,” Eames said honestly, smiling.

 

For a moment Eames thought Arin was going to walk away. Then she lifted her unbroken shoe and snapped its heel off as well, making the shoes usable for walking even if they looked a little odd. Arin stood and held out a hand and Eames quickly stood as well, offering an arm for Arin to take. “Dancing in those heels wouldn’t have been fun anyway,” Arin said blandly, though Eames caught a small smile on her lips as they headed towards the exit together.


End file.
